


Rainy Meetings

by Diamond_Sylvie



Series: Diamond_Sylvie’s Muskets [3]
Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: First Meetings, Fluff, Gen, I tried to write in present tense, Modern AU, Rain, Sponsored by my thesaurus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:21:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24899839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diamond_Sylvie/pseuds/Diamond_Sylvie
Summary: Joe meets Cleo on a rainy day.(Personas only, don't ship real people)((Although not really shipping here))
Relationships: Slight JoeHills/ZombieCleo if you squint
Series: Diamond_Sylvie’s Muskets [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1792969
Comments: 6
Kudos: 28





	Rainy Meetings

The boy sits in his desk, staring at the droplets of water that splatter against the glass, a pen poised above his notebook, ready to form a picture with his words. Normally his words flow like a river, but right now, it is blocked with a dam. He sighs, and rubs his temples. The assignment is due tomorrow, and he still has absolutely no idea what he is doing. It was simple enough.  _ Write a poem _ . He can use one of his old poems, but none of them seem good enough. Grabbing an umbrella, he calls out to his mother that he is going to take a walk and pulls on his shoes. He tucks a notepad and pen under his arm and leaves the warm comfort of his home. The boy wanders the streets, trying to spark his creativity.

He finds himself in the park, where a figure is sitting on the bench. A hood covers their head. Although they must be soaked to the bone, they seem content. It sends a bolt of inspiration from the boy, who pulls out his notepad and pen and starts scribbling away, glasses sliding down his nose and almost slipping off his face entirely. Occasionally stealing a glance at the hooded figure, he continues to write, still standing in the middle of the wet path. When he looks again, the figure is staring at him with emerald-green eyes. Another line hits him and he jots it down, fingers trembling from the cold and trying to keep up with his brain.

“What’cha writing?” He jumps a little and looks up, a red-haired girl in front of him. He recognizes them as the figure he was staring at. Up close, the scars and stitches that criss-cross her face are visible. Without thinking,he blurts out:

“Why is your exquisite face swathed in seams? Not that it impacts your appearance, er, rather, it enhances your delightful charm.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, he cringes internally.  _ Why did he always have to ramble on about everything, and in such formal language?  _ He opens his eyes hesitantly, not realizing that he had squeezed them shut in his panic. The girl stands in front of him, a confused yet amused smile playing on her lips, rain dripping off the back of her raincoat.

“I have absolutely no idea what you just said, but it better not be anything bad or else I will break your legs.” He shakes his head frantically. “No, nothing atrocious.” Her smile grows a little wider. “Are you messing with me?”   
  


“I am merely trying to communicate with a member of my species; I am not ‘messing’ with anyone,” He holds up air quotes. “as I am not behaving in a foolish way, only trying to comply with my brain as it has instances of inspiration.” The girl’s mouth falls open.

“How do you even know that many words? Are you a dictionary?” The normally harsh were said with slight awe, making a small blush spread across his face. He shrugs. “I like to study literature. As for being a dictionary, I simply am not. A dictionary holds much knowledge, however, I cannot memorize it all, nor can I become one with an inanimate object. I need some memories to be on other things, such as my schoolwork.” He gestures to the notepad filled with scribbly writing.

“What year is it.” The question is said in a statement. He frowns slightly, catching her implications. 

“It is the year 2020. Although I speak formally, I am not able to traverse time and space, though it is an intriguing thought.” He taps his chin thoughtfully.

“Are you sure? That’s what a time traveller would say! You legitimately sound like you are from the sixteenth century or something.”

“That’s awfully rude of you to assume, miss…?” He trails off, realizing that he doesn’t actually know her name.

“Cleo. You?”

“Joe HIlls.” He holds out a hand for her to shake. She slaps their palms together instead, and snorts at the look of surprise on his face.

“You’re funny.”

Joe flashes her an easy smile. “Thank you, although humour is something that is varied. Some people might think knock-knock jokes are the peak of humour, while others, like you, seem to find my formal mannerisms pleasantly amusing.” She explodes into laughter, wiping at the rain and tears that fall down her face.

“You have a phone number?” Cleo askes once she calms down a bit.

“That I do.” As they exchange numbers and carry on with their days, the rain pours steadily down. Joe makes his way back to his home, glad that he went on a walk. It had given him ideas for his homework.

And more importantly, a new friend.

**Author's Note:**

> So uh I tried to write in present tense  
> And I thought this was cute  
> Also I may have overdone it with the thesaurus whoops
> 
> Yours very truly,  
> Diamond_Sylvie


End file.
